


Ocelot's Dealings With The North Pole

by panpinecone



Series: Candy Canes And Kittens [1]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Cold Weather, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, M/M, Painful Sex, Rough Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Verbal Humiliation, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panpinecone/pseuds/panpinecone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although the man he idolized fell into a coma, Ocelot's love life didn't languish in the slightest. Instead, he found comfort in Big Boss's own idol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ocelot's Dealings With The North Pole

Ocelot placed the electric rods aside and moved to take the restraints off of Santa, gloved hands working expertly at the bonds.

"Ho, ho, ho," laughed Santa, sitting up and rubbing his wrists as Ocelot continued his task. "Such a cruel mistress you are, Mrs. Claus!"

Finished with the last restraint, Ocelot crawled onto the bed and scooted up to straddle Santa. "And just what are you going to do about it, hm?" he asked, batting his long eyelashes and softly grinding down.

Santa’s hands came to rest on Ocelot’s ass, pressing him close. "A wanton floozy like yourself really must be punished," was all he said, groping at the flesh he held.

“Oh?” asked Ocelot, quirking an eyebrow in mock curiosity. “I don’t know about that,” he trailed off, disinterestedly looking down and picking at his skirt. Absently, he noted its coloring perfectly matched that of his long satin gloves, and made a mental note to find out which elves had tailored the outfit. Perhaps he could have them work on some other designs...

Finally, he glanced back up and nonchalantly asked, “What did you have in mind?”

In the blink of an eye, Santa had scooped Ocelot up and thrown him over his shoulder. Ocelot’s hands flew up, rushing to keep his stocking cap firmly planted on his head as he flailed his legs. The spurs on his black, thigh-high boots managed to jingle almost as loudly as the tiny decorative sleigh bells attached alongside them.

“Hey, what’re you—!?”

Ocelot’s protests were cut off by a sharp slap to his bottom and Santa’s voice booming, "Stop squirming, you trollop!" Falling still, Ocelot let himself be carried out of the house and into the freezing chill of the outdoors. Santa walked along effortlessly, unhindered by either Ocelot’s weight or the biting cold as he made his way past both the toy factory and the reindeer stables.

Once near the surrounding forest, but still in easy view of the buildings, Santa came to a stop and threw Ocelot down on the ground. Before Ocelot could properly right himself, Santa began undoing the buckle on his leather belt. "Get on all fours, you wench,” he ordered, “and make sure you're facing the factory."

Ocelot immediately did as he was told, turning over and shivering. Even through his gloves, mere contact with the snow managed to raise hundreds of goose bumps along his skin. Before he could voice his discomfort, Santa yanked up his short skirt, exposing his milky-white ass to the frigid air. There was a pause during which Ocelot involuntarily shuddered from the newfound frostiness, and then Santa brought his belt down.

The resulting smack was drowned out by Ocelot’s yelp. He was certain it had hit hard enough to leave a mark.

" _You need to be quiet_ ," Santa reminded him, began bringing down the belt again.

And again.

And again.

Each smack rang out, steadily turning Ocelot's ass a brighter and brighter red.

At the rate things were going, Ocelot was sure it would end up giving even Rudolph's nose a run for its money. Gritting his teeth, he tried to relax, even as every muscle in his body jumped to attention each time the belt whistled through the air. Despite his best efforts, Ocelot felt his eyes begin to prickle with unshed tears and shut them tightly, determined to take Santa’s punishment without complaint.

Finally, the blows stopped, and Santa let the belt fall to the ground. "Turn over," he commanded.

Eager to please, Ocelot did so, wincing as his sore ass came into contact with the snow. The cold seeped into his skin, soothing where the lashes had landed, but leaving the rest of his body shaking.

"Ready, _tart_?" Santa asked.

Ocelot gave an apprehensive nod.

"Good," came Santa’s reply. He kneeled down and spread Ocelot's legs wide apart, pulling aside the skimpy underwear blocking his way. Reaching further down, he felt around for a few moments until he found what he was looking for. Roughly, he yanked out the butt plug Ocelot had been wearing and tossed it aside.

"Eager for it, are we?" he laughed, bringing out his meaty cock. "Don't worry, you shameless minx, you'll get it soon enough."

With that, Santa buried himself to the hilt in a single push, completely stuffing Ocelot's ass and forcing a startled cry out of him. It echoed into the night, and Santa glared down reproachfully. "Silence! Do you _want_ to call attention to yourself?" He slapped Ocelot across the face. "Or maybe you'd _like_ the elves to get curious and look this way, you hussy!?" He punctuated the question with a vicious thrust, and Ocelot brought a hand to his mouth in the hope of muffling any further noises he might make. "That's better," murmured Santa, and began rocking his hips at a leisurely pace.

Though the reduced speed was considerably more welcome than the brutal actions from moments before, Ocelot couldn’t help feeling as if Santa was literally tearing into him. He _had_ prepared himself earlier using a good amount of lube, then plugged himself up to ensure he’d be ready...

But all the same, he was barely stretching around Santa’s cock, its mere presence creating a sense of impalement.

Suddenly, Santa's grip tightened and he rammed in even deeper, sitting up on his knees and pulling Ocelot along with him. Gravity, along with the new angle, helped Ocelot's legs fall further apart as Santa continued carelessly plowing into him.

Shivering from the unrelenting wind, and wet from the melting snow he was being fucked into, Ocelot cautiously reached for his own dick, hoping to distract himself by way of some additional pleasure. Bit by bit, he inched his hand over and latched onto himself, only to be unceremoniously dumped back down into the snow. Peeking up, he was met by the sight of Santa’s eyes burning with fury.

"Turn over _right this second_."

Obediently, Ocelot flipped over onto all fours, holding the position until he felt one of Santa’s huge hands forcing his head into the ground. Bringing up his arms to stop himself from getting a mouthful of snow, he abruptly realized that he'd been left with no way to jerk off.

Before he could ponder the situation any further, Santa seized his hips once more and reentered him, the brusqueness of the action wringing a whimper from Ocelot. With each violent stab of his cock, Santa's hips smacked against Ocelot's already bruised ass, leaving the entire area sore. Weakly scrabbling at the snow, Ocelot was rapidly becoming desperate to either cry out or jerk off, but Santa was ruthless.

"You're really _enjoying_ this, aren't you?" he asked. "This is supposed to be your _punishment_. Maybe you wouldn't like it as much if I called the elves..."

"N- no," Ocelot stammered out, barely suppressing a whine as Santa relentlessly pounded into him.

"'No' what?"

_"No, please!"_

Santa yanked at a fistful of Ocelot's hair, wrenching his head back, and leaned over. "Maybe I will, maybe I won't. I don't owe you _anything_ , you doxy," he panted into Ocelot's ear, thrusts growing erratic. He moved back and tugged harder at Ocelot’s hair, forcing him up onto his knees.

Leaning fully against Santa, Ocelot felt a meaty hand come up to wrap around his neck.

"Not about to break the 'quiet' rule, are we?"

"Not at all," gasped Ocelot, feeling flushed from the ministrations, yet growing increasingly desensitized from his prolonged exposure to the freezing outdoors. Santa settled his other arm around Ocelot’s waist and resumed pummeling into him remorselessly. The hand around Ocelot’s throat squeezed even tighter, cutting off his circulation and making him grow woozy.

Before he could take complete leave of his senses, Santa shoved him back down into the snow and hooked robust arms securely around his torso. Once Ocelot was firmly in his clutches, Santa stood up and lifted him along, connected only by the cock in his ass. Calm as ever, Santa strode over to the toy factory and came to a stop beside a window. There, he positioned a barely standing Ocelot against the glass pane before continuing his aggressive fucking.

Thoroughly disoriented and numb, Ocelot peered through the window and spotted the elves hard at work on the year's batch of toys. Thousands of them sat lined up beside each other, all dutifully working in the comfortable warmth of the factory. Ocelot’s teeth chattered and he pawed weakly at the icy glass, yearning for the coziness on the other side.

He was _so close_...

So close, in fact, that the elves would instantly see him if they happened to look up.

He clenched his hands into fists and looked away, trying his best to remain upright and silent despite his deepening need to simply curl up and let his hushed sniffling turn into outright wailing.

Santa gave his ass a loud slap, startling him out of his frost-induced reverie. Ocelot imagined it must've been painful, but was numb enough that all he could go by was the noise it made, which was loud enough to echo in the snowy night.

"What's the matter, temptress? Not so confident anymore?" asked Santa, breath growing ragged, a sign Ocelot had come to associate with him nearing orgasm. Rather than give a response, Ocelot merely pushed back against his unrelenting cock.

The frigid temperature had clearly taken its toll, leaving Ocelot's muscles refusing to cooperate. Rather than pushing back as he'd intended, he instead found himself veering dangerously to the side. Before he could actually fall over, Santa yanked him back into place.

"Tch, can't even get fucked right..." Santa muttered, lifting Ocelot up by the thighs and propping his spurred boots on the windowsill. "There, now you don't even have to _stand_ on your own."

More exposed than ever, chilled to the bone, and with his boots noisily pressing against the window pane, Ocelot wasn’t entirely sure how he hadn’t already lost consciousness. His skimpy outfit had long ceased being adequate protection against the weather, and he doubted his stillness was doing any favors for his circulation. It was practically a miracle he hadn't just slumped over.

But that wasn’t exactly due to any great endurance on his part, either. Instead, he was limply resting against Santa's chest. Santa's cozy chest, warm like a furnace.

Meanwhile, his legs remained spread open across the toy factory window, and he found himself completely beyond the point of caring, content to let himself be held up and fucked.

After what seemed like an eternity, Santa's arms tightened around him, thrusts gaining speed. Ocelot’s eyes fluttered open—he realized he must've shut them at some point—and squinted, blinded by the light emanating from the window his heels still scraped against.

He noticed his dick was limp, and probably had been for a long time, but couldn't bring himself to care. After all, none of his body parts were entirely functional anymore, leaving a neglected dick as the least of his worries.

A strangled grunt came from Santa, followed by a few minutes of calm, and then Ocelot felt himself being moved around. The next thing he knew, he’d been positioned so that he was curled up against Santa, barely retaining consciousness. All the same, he weakly nuzzled into the fur of Santa’s coat as he was carried away.

Before long, the twinkling multicolored lights of the Claus house loomed before them, and Ocelot realized he was being taken back inside; back to the sweet, invigorating warmth of their home.

Santa carried him across the threshold, quickly shutting the door behind them. Oblivious, Ocelot simply burrowed further into Santa’s coat, relishing the heat of the room. A few moments passed, and Santa brought him to the fireplace, gently laying him down on the woolly rug before it.

Ocelot let out a happy sigh, rubbing his face against the softness and slowly stretching out his limbs. After about a minute, he felt his strength returning and sat up, scooting closer to the fire. Santa’s supple hands came to rest on his arms and gently rubbed at them in an effort to warm him up, a gesture Ocelot greatly appreciated.

"What would you like to drink, Mrs. Claus?" asked Santa’s voice from somewhere behind him.

"Mm... Hot cocoa," Ocelot replied, continuing to flex his joints into working order. Santa’s hands left him and he heard heavy footsteps heading towards the kitchen, followed by the sound of Santa shuffling about in search of the necessary items.

Knowing that it might take him half an hour to find everything on his own, Ocelot stood to go help out.

Only once he glanced down did he notice just how messy the rug had become from the cum still leaking out of him. Ocelot grimaced, resigning himself to the fact that it was yet another thing he’d have to end up cleaning.

At least it meant pulling out the maid costume again.

**Author's Note:**

> Revised from its original state. Added details, reworded sentences, and improved overall flow. First version anonymously submitted as a series of asks at: [thatkindoffangirl.tumblr.com](http://thatkindoffangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Inspired by this: [thatkindoffangirl.tumblr.com/post/115652080023](http://thatkindoffangirl.tumblr.com/post/115652080023)


End file.
